


Between the Reds (Silence)

by blindtaleteller



Series: Platovember Prompts 2020 [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Acceptance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gen, Lokiverse - Freeform, Mixology (Lokiverse), Platovember, Platovember 2020, Survival, Vanaheimr | Vanaheim, Wilderness Survival, conjoined AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindtaleteller/pseuds/blindtaleteller
Summary: Continuing on their trek through Yggdrasil to the next doorway to Asgard, Flyk (Loki) and the Bartons move forward on their surreal journey into the hills of Vanaheim; accompanied still by Vinur and his small herd through the thick birch within the Fence. All has been quiet the last two days. Too, quiet..A third if also able to stand alone part and continuation of The Warming Stone (Warmth,) and The Hart (Trust.)
Relationships: Barton Family/Loki, platonic - Relationship
Series: Platovember Prompts 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999015
Kudos: 1
Collections: Loki, Platonic Relationships, Prompted Writing





	Between the Reds (Silence)

**Author's Note:**

> Warming Stone and Hart can both be found in this series if you haven't read them; with Warming Stone currently as first chronologically in line. 
> 
> Flyk (Loki) and Cuyler from Universe/Door 14 of Mixology/Lokiverse again! These muses are having (and giving me) way too much fun on their brief jaunt through Yggdrasil.  
> I love, the old faery stories; not the PG ones most know today (though those can be fun) but the REALLY good, dark, surreal, twisted ones where the most unassuming thing can and often was also very dangerous.. or associated with something that was.
> 
> The kinds of stories that remember that mermaids and nereids grew as myths in the first place as creatures that pulled men from their ships and coves to their deaths; that faeries stole human children and replaced them with their own because they didn't want the bother and mischief of raising them themselves; and where the walking dead were once hungry, greedy creatures and humans or more, seeking either immortality and failing: or to keep their treasures well beyond when they were placed in their graves.
> 
> I'm not sure if something like the Psyche exists in mythos outside of maybe a twisted legend or two that someone might dig up. The world is a vast place and history makes it more so. But for me they're something I made for this story with Flykra's particular door in mind, in this instance: and one of many somethings in that same nature I knew I wanted to put into Flyk's story along with the lot more like them.
> 
> I've said before that each Book has it's own carefully chosen name and theme. And that some of them cross from or brush in from one book to the next. This is especially true of DREAMS, and purposefully more subtle with the elements that Flyk's still unnamed Book weaves in. If you read the conversation with Stephen Strange about magic in the last part of this series, you might understand why; and why some of that magic seems to burst in so abruptly.
> 
> It's meant to.  
> Because it isn't that it's just there, just THEN that's the point; it's that it's always there CONSTANTLY, ready and alive and waiting to be seen, and pulled on, and shaped.

  * IDENTIFY LOCATION: CUYLER - INTER-DIMENSIONAL IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED : HVRA0616-9H-14
  * \---INTER-UNIVERSAL DOORWAY ENTRY POINT H14 : OBSERVATIONAL STATUS - TVA INTERFERENCE: _OBSERVATION ACTIVITY DETECTED_
  * \----VANAHEIM : THE VANIR WILDS - VISITATION CAUTIONS _EXTREME CAUTION ADVISED_ : THE FENCE
  * \------KNOWN DOMESTIC TIME VARIANCE : 10:14 PM



##  -\\\Between the Reds//-

The maple and oak, the smoke and wind shifted scent of blood even that had been so present Barton hadn't recognized it until it was gone and away behind them had all been left behind. Now the trees were all stained and black bunted papery white teeth out of the earth and yellow-orange fire tinged spaded blades of only birch where half hanging orange and red hands and the dark familiar thick twist of ruffled back had been waving and brushing at times at their faces. Every once in a while there was the depth of what looked like beech trees, old and thick and gnarled up from the roots to spread out and force their lower shadows in further out places: places that Loki purposely led then around and even skirted, and felt sometimes if they wandered too close like there was something else there waiting under their branches.

Somewhere in the night before last the birch had gotten thicker; grown taller, enough not to move with what there was of the wind that managed to cut between them; and there wasn't much of that. Even less moonlight, as the clouds had swept in over them; and dropped a spittling rain that was more mist over the whole of it all once or twice along the way that made the fall chill warmer somehow, if unsettling at night. Before too, there had been signs of other life; people and farms and trails. The occasional road or forgotten mark that some one had been there, if sometimes only distantly. Edging a farm, nicking a few vegetables or something else had ended as abruptly as the sense of the forest had changed; and the sleep schedule they had started to fall into had started to change with it.

He said that travel would be more dangerous by night than day from there and very little else; and he wasn't wrong if only for the cloud cover: though looking across the fire at Loki's face and the odd extra lack of expression and that had settled over him again, the little extra control to the motions of the dark strange slip of a thumb-length blade making it's way along the wood he was paring away careful chip at a time into a short pile of what would be kindling later that after Jotunheim, Clint could almost see the ritual in for how smooth it was. It was less whittling that shape out, and more sharpening something under Loki's skin tangible enough to Clint having seen him hunt so many times now that it put him off.

And still had him awake when he should be sleeping next to his wife and son too. Not that he was the only other one out of the five of them awake, that said. Lila was right there, some of the long and thin and almost green branches the Hart had seemed to know he wanted had pointed out: carefully paring the bark and few knots from with a smaller, and even more severely curved blade out of the immense stash of them Clint knew Loki kept tucked in behind the ink on his skin under the layers he wore. She was getting tired too though, and he saw it.

So did Loki, when she almost slipped the blade, pausing Clint and jerking Vinur's head up from his resting lay less than three yards from where Clint sat when the prince just snapped his left hand to close over both that and the stick to halt the knife and Lila's much smaller hand. Barton saw a moment there to insert himself and stood to take it: she didn't even argue when he started to take the knife away and motioned her for the thick padding and overhang of the furry lean-to her mother and brother were dozing comfortably under.

" I'll take it. " pausing Loki's motion to put the sharp little finger-blade away when he said as quietly. " I've been watching you two long enough to get the gist of how it's done by now. " was almost half grunted as he settled in cross legged on his ass in the fire-dried lump of matted down leaves, watching his daughter yawn even as she closed the thin quilted skirt they'd turned into a flap for the sleepers behind her. The flash of the blade swirled with greenish and some places pinkish black being held out in front of him brought his attention back to the bundle of unfinished sticks, and the one Lila had been working on.

" You should be sleeping yourself, Barton. " made him sigh a bit and share a brief look with the silver-horned stag when his head swiveled their way again rather than huge his ears, before looking over to Loki and picking up the motions of pairing off the bark and the greenest parts under it with the strange little knife after a brief inspection. The small herd had been staying much closer too. Close enough to touch at times, and brush haunches or shoulders with their horses if not their legs: which hadn't added any ease to the sense of this particular part of the wood.

The knife in his hand wasn't unlike the birds-beak blade his dark company was using; the same handle, maybe from the same set: but the shape was almost a perfectly round and far tighter crescent; and the blade where it's edge was only on the inside _definitely_ looked it, just enough space to wiggle the wood in and shuck it down the green shafts. " Not tired... " and Clint was listening for the subtler sounds of sleep he was getting used to in the instances like this they managed to talk alone, outside of hunting or breaking to scout their surroundings better. Those still didn't happen often: but they were increasing in frequency. " ...and we haven't talked in a while, without the kids listening. "

" True. " Turn and shuck again, in little motions past the knot to carve it straight; even down the shaft: while a glance over showed him Lo was working on paring out a dip in the piece he was working on in gradually angling cuts that almost curled the shape of the piece. Two days, and the bit of plum wood that: Clint hadn't even realized until he'd started messing with it had been kept bagged in with a sage and mint flowers of all things in shorter cuts just a little less than the length of his arm. " Are the the trees bothering you? " sounded like a weird question though, at least to Barton.

It put a little pause in his next swipe, but had him shaking his head after a moment. " There's a feel to the whole place since we left the maples behind though. "

" Stay away from the psyche. " as instantaneous as it was pulled him short again, looking over. " The big, red ones. They aren't much trouble during the day; " and had Barton staring at him too, because he was serious and Clint knew it. " but if they take offense or are disturbed at night it can be problematic. "

" ...do they _get up_ , and _move?_ " was serious question, and had Loki's brows coming up and together with the pause from his work looking at him that implied he thought he should have been kidding; and cracking a slow, rare smile as he saw he wasn't before he let it settle in his own open lap. Though Clint didn't find what he said as and answer nearly as funny. " They used to, according to my grandmothers, " pulling a deep sigh from Clint; because of course they probably did or would. Why not, right? So far they'd been attacked by snow worms, almost eaten by an even bigger snow owl after _those_ for a late night snack, dodged frost giants only _mostly;_ and almost run _face first_ in to an honest to god _troll._ And that was before even getting through the door to Vanaheim. " ..but no. I've never seen it anyway. " wasn't a whole lot of encouraging either, for the way he knew to take Loki's words by now. " They are more .. _expressively oppressive_ ; in these days, than anything. " did catch his interest though.

" What do you mean? " as Clint started up the motions again, but; was admittedly watching Loki's face more while they talked. he had better coordination than Lila of course at her young age, and control, and once the motion was in a certain flow it was easy to follow through with once he had his thumb on the bridge of the blade to guide the edge where he knew it was. " Where to start..? Vanaheim itself has it's own life, in the places where men haven't touched it well enough. In ages past, the psyche were thought to be a sentient species all their own, and may be they are: if half asleep and dreaming these days. Some say they might have been or still are distant relatives of the _Flora colossi;_ who as you might guess, are plant-folk.. usually very similar in appearance to trees. "

" But they're not trees? " made Loki smile again and Clint tempted to elbow him, if he wasn't handling the more dangerous knife of the two of them and working it through the much thicker wood. " It's complicated. Like asking if your kind are monkeys just because many consider them related. But, mostly. Very _advanced,_ trees? Not that what we consider normal trees aren't somewhat complicated lifeforms all on their own. "

" You say some really weird stuff sometimes. "

" Doesn't appear to keep you from believing me. "

" Which, _sometimes_ scares me more; " Barton admitted with a slight chuckle, for the following fact " 'cause there's gonna come a point when I don't know if you're making shit up just to screw with me or not any more. " and got a snort out of the dark haired prince, before Clint thought to ask. " What do psyche do though; that make them dangerous? "

At first, Clint thought maybe he'd seen or heard something; for the lack of an answer and turn of his head; but looking over again as he picked up another stick and set it with the rest of the line nearer the fire to dry he realized that wasn't the case. He was thinking about it, he realized. Or at least thinking about what he should say and what he shouldn't maybe. It was an odd moment, and an odder feeling, like being told a secret of some sort when he did start talking. " It's difficult to describe, but they're still and patient hunters. The soil at their roots is particularly good, and they encourage small fruits and flowers to grow deep under their branches as lures for other life: while their leaves and the greener tips mark their prey and more as they pass under them. " had Clint thinking of venus flytraps and corpse flowers as he listened, shucking and cleaning another shaft before Loki continued. " Berries, mushroom; sometimes vegetables. The more frightening elders like those here though, are capable of a good deal more. Touched enough, a creature loses the will to leave it's canopy. "

An eerie thought enough, that reminded Clint of stories his mother had told him sometimes, before she'd died. Stories his grandfather had told her, and who knew how many more before him. " Small creatures first; prey animals like rabbits, and squirrels and insects even. Birds and the like. " it was the at first, that hung up in Clint's head; starting to grasp at the prickling edge of the quiet that he'd noticed in the wood. " What's under their boughs keep them alive and dosed with their influence through the green and most of the red seasons. Though by the end of those, they're already technically starving. " Stopped Clint's work entirely, unable to keep from looking into the fire and notice the darkened reflection of white birch trees around them, or the depth of the wood past his sight outside of it's dim glow, where more trees were waiting.

_When was the last time he'd seen so much as a wild dog's print in the mud after that mist, actually?_

" The predators are next. If they don't come for that _living_ prey... " sidled up with the attempt to recall, even the signs of a racoon, " ..if not, then; the desperate come close for the temptation of remaining carrion or bone after. Or the company of those caught under their branches already, sometimes depending on whether the predator walks on two legs or four, or whether they wander in between their branches on wings instead. " or a possum, or for that matter a bird bigger than a finch outside of the few stirrings he had to bring himself to remember had only been implied under red leaves since the wood had turned entirely to birch. " They lose their own will entirely after a while, even bent as it becomes: if they're particularly resilient creatures. And some the psyche keep for themselves, as a part of their hunt even if they're not. "

Clint suddenly understood, looking out in the same direction the Hart stag had been when he'd lifted his head; the same direction the last huge tree he had thought was a beech they had passed was. " Trees out here, this size; take in much bigger and more willful things; they have a larger hunger. Especially competing with the others.. the birch are thinner cousins, and useful though; I'd wager. Since their leaves are similar enough. " added a whole other level of crawl to his skin with the words " Especially in the dark, and with the mist falling down, from the Tall Water Hills on beyond the fence. " and put the space in the middle of Barton's shoulders to the same tension, his expression _\--or so he felt--_ to the same stillness Clint had recognized slipped back into his demeanor over the past few days when looking back at Loki from the depth of the wood he couldn't see past their ring of fire.

" Are you screwing with me?" was a calm question as Clint went back to shucking the bark from the thin shafts; received a small huff of an otherwise silent laugh. " No, and I'm glad for as much as I am wary of it; which is why we are making you more arrows, and another, _better_ bow: in the event anything else might happen to the one you have currently. " Put another stop to the work, though not looking at Loki; rather at the thin shaft in his hands, and; reaching to flip the birch up and back along his arm: realize at a brief stun it was actually almost the perfect length for his arms. " Though I do not think I'll go this way again after this. " Brought Clint's eyes back to the man sitting next to him;who was digging the extra shards of plum wood from what he could recognize now as one of the bow's limbs as his head mapped out the shape; a long, almost staring look in the same direction Clint had been looking, and then farther to their right.

Had they moved between two of them? Clint glanced that way, realizing he wasn't entirely sure himself. And that, making him realize some of exactly why they were shifting their sleep schedules, and why Lo was starting to refuse to travel past the bright parts of the night, even with his impressive night vision.

" Why? "

Quiet being punctured by a crunch much farther off he had heard the likes of before or thought he had known as the kind of natural he knew, and now: wasn't as sure of, raised Clint's hackles a bit.

" Because we've been followed since our peek at the battlefield, after meeting Vinur. " kept his eyes right there when it faded just as quickly as Loki spoke. " And their movements have been becoming fewer, and quieter as planned coming this way."

There was a long period between them of nothing but the sounds of their knives working the bark from Clint's new arrows, and the bend of the bow limb into shape; thinking that all this way Loki had only seen the need to prepare and help him replace the string, to his compound bow. Thinking, up til now; he had offered or pulled necessities from thin air again that had nothing to do with weaponry otherwise unless it was pulled out of the dagger tattoos that rode his skin instead. Not with the worms, or the owl, or the Jotun he'd watched him kill in between to ease their passage past the outer edges of the settlement when they'd almost been discovered.

Not with the troll when it had scrabbled at them tucked between the shelves of frost-paled rock running for the doorway when he'd found the feel of it from under the great weight of the Face's many tiers there. Not when hunting, not when edging battlefields full of men and rock monsters and rifles and spears and more.

Not until they were here. Having the shape of that and the basic shape of why, and what that growing silence meant on their way walking through what he could now only think of as a still standing fire-leaved herd of stories-tall unassuming predators in the shapes of trees, he had to clarify; after a while. Make sure he understood. " So, the biggest trees are carnivorous; and make living minions of the wildlife to hunt further when disturbed? "

Quiet, for the moment, and the next full second; then three more before he answered in a brief glance. " Not always the living, as I said. And people too, yes. " pulled the breath back into him with the unsettling full confirmation: the reason why Loki would not be coming this particular way again.

" Right. So.. _red_ beech trees, are **_hungry_** trees; that _eat people_ and **or,** turn them into not _**just** mindless_ tree-minions: but _**zombie** tree-minions? _" a nod, and yes. But of course they were Clint. " And, unless I misunderstood you.. they might hunt us if we -so much as and for example- touch the wrong _leaf?_ "

" Pretty much. "

" Even if they're on the ground. "

" That's why traveling here through the Fence at night, and _particularly_ during the autumn is exceptionally dangerous, yes. " Had Clint pretty sure he was going to end up being able to say with absolute truth when this was all said and done, that the lines forming in his forehead might entirely find a permanent place on his features not from the trip itself: but pretty much everything else that he was finding out about what lived in the little pieces of the universe they were treading through instead.

" _Hoh **-kay.**_ " was just the start of his external rambling need to get the humming little horrors out from behind his lungs and away from his lips. " Is there anything else weird and mystically horrifying ahead that you'd like to share, besides 'the trees will eat you, Clint?' " Had Loki smiling broad and true when he looked over; a rare kind the edges of which only his daughter and son usually managed to brush their little fingers at in a very good moment: and had Clint instantly chasing after for the sudden burst of lightened, purer not-sound it let loose reactively in Barton's chest. " Were-rabbits maybe? _Huh?_ " had that smile getting bigger, and Clint saw the dimples as bait when he switched to the next arrow shaft in the bunch.

" ...no. No were-rabbits. "

" Momo? " pulled up Loki's brow in a fast bit of confusion to go with the slight tick of his head; and Clint wasn't surprised. " Ah, right; that's an _Earth_ legend... " Hooked him in enough for Clint to continue. " Area specific to where we came from too. Momo is, Missouri's version of Bigfoot. A big, hairy apelike creature with no neck that eats small animals. Including house pets. Never seen one, but with how close the doorway was.. might be if they exist they might've gotten around? " which pulled Loki's brows a little higher before he shook his head. " I've seen Yeti. Maybe it's a creature like it? "

Actually made Clint shrug, if laugh a little. " Maybe. " and pick up the silence again before it could settle. " Seriously though; nothing really dangerous on Asgard..? "

" _Only_ every single noble among the Aesir _and_ half the high guard. "

" Only half the guard, you say. "

" I served with the other half, or they served me; so: yes. " pulled Clint's eyes again, because: having him offer something like that, about himself: was still a rare and precious thing. Even when brief. " Ah.. there is one large, hairy creature we'll see a lot of once through that particular door though. Horrible little creatures; about the size of a large dog. "

" Yeah? " and he was nodding, his brows still up and smile turned away at his work as it lessened slowly. " I would say they're not incredibly bright, but they get into everything. They're a bloody menace. Horned, hairy, smelly climbers, with sharp teeth. They'll eat a farmers vegetation to the brown of the earth and kick up the root to have it too. Don't stop there though. They'll put anything in their mouth and chew it, including parts of you if you aren't careful. One once shoved Thor clear off a cliff --for which granted I did love it _very_ dearly for _all_ of five seconds before it came after me-- " had Clint's brows up again, listening. " and went to chasing my cousin and I down into the valley, and eating one of my favorite mead pouches; strings and all. Ate her shoe and took a good nip out of her foot too in the process. "

" ..yeah _uh,_ that sounds a little _worrying._ " was honest, as he shook his head and finished off another shaft; taking a moment to check the others now that he knew what they were going to be. " _Mm._ Just have to watch out for them when we get there I suppose. "

" There a _name_ for 'em? "

" Mm, _yes._ Your world has them too. We call them goats. " Full stop, and Clint's eyes went before the turn of Barton's head; only to see the instant grin and shaking shoulders and bright warmth to the glint of those pretty eyes while Clint put the story together: and immediately picked up one of those arrow shafts to rap the laughing godling over his dark head.

" You _shit.._ " Though _and **fuck**_ if Clint wasn't laughing too, as he realized he had _just been told_ a story about how Thor had been probably headbutted off a cliff by a goat. **Thor**. Yeah.. there was no not laughing at that and the rest of that story when you knew what it was. " ....just _**had** to;_ after I mentioned screwing with me in particular, _didn't you?_ "

" It was mandatory after _that_ mention, yes and _of course._ " had Clint bouncing the shaft on Loki's head a couple more times, unable to keep from smiling as Loki tried, and failed to lean away from Barton's shoulder and out of it without stopping his work.

The talk from there was easier. The likely distance between them and the peaceful farmland on the other side of the next doorway through space-time. Mention of the terrain ahead, easier questions back and forth about things that mostly only mattered on the road, or rather lack of it they were carving through the silent hunters around them. And all the while, the hush of their family sleeping; the quiet slide and creaking wedge of razor-sharp, spelled Damascus steel peeling a new form of protection from birch in his hands, and the plum in Loki's.

The silence stood around them still; but it's hardness between the teeth of the wood felt softer, and less, and easier to bear with the first bits of real laughter between them. There was an itch rising up somewhere low in Clint's gut though; another kind of quiet even as he took it in. The kind that reminded him how close they were getting.

To Asgard. To Midgard; Earth. To the end. _An,_ _end;_ that Barton was starting to understand and wish he couldn't see, starting to creep up silently in the distance one step at a time to meet them.

Back to normal things; where the magic and wonder was less, and the world was too loud now: for a hunter.

Back where their histories were closer, and the allies _Clint_ had made were, probably still; Loki's _enemies._

Somewhere beyond the silent Fence of white birch teeth, and sprawling red spaded fingers of murderous beeches?

_Between here and Midgard? They were going to have to make a choice._

Looking to the Hart again as the hour got later, he saw the doe peeking at them in the rest over Vinur's pale, wavy ivory coat; her nose barely tipped at the bowed back of their curled fawn, watching them quietly. Her curved and kinked brassy-gold horns holding the light like long gilded mirrors, or satin. He and Laura weren't the only ones, who had paths to consider along the way. He remembered some of Midgard's stories, and wondered after watching and moving alongside them how much of that was real and true, or whether the things they sometimes represented and did represent had the heart of it for when and where they had become a part of their awkward and eerily grounded herd of eight...


End file.
